


Treasures and Daydreams

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Play, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, F/M, Femslash February, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 05:17:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17843198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In which Leliana is an enabler and Josephine needs to let go of some tension and finds enjoyable ways to spend an evening by herself.





	Treasures and Daydreams

Josephine draws shut the door behind her, listening to its closing thump and click with relief and satisfaction. She still feels a little on edge, flush with excitement over deals well executed after her last meeting in the war room, but her day's work is now done, and done well, earlier than she had hoped for. Tonight she will not fall asleep at her desk, she will not be roused by a shuffling scout that stumbles upon her with a delayed message, by her own body's discomfort, or by Leliana, who is a worse night-owl than she herself is. Does Leliana sleep these days? Josephine sometimes thinks she cannot say for certain. They both spend little time on themselves. But what is forgoing these things for a while when the Inquisition has such need of her skills? So many depend upon her. Besides, she has been too high-strung and worried for much rest. Her sleep recently has mostly been won from exhaustion.

Tonight, however, Josephine has an hour or so to herself before she will go to bed. Her tension will fade with the right treatment. She will have a bath and let it chase the mountain cold from her bones. She will take her time washing her hair and use the precious oils she was gifted by the delegation from Rivain to soothe her skin, she will drink tea, she will read. She will maybe even allow herself more indulgences. Two of the Antivan chocolates still remain saved-up in their box, and there are other pleasures she has long neglected and saved up as well. She smiles a little guiltily at the thought, at having allowed herself to buy these things in Val Royeaux.

Later, bathed, refreshed and now cozy in her nightdress and robe she feels calmer. Her armchair is old and threadbare, but covered in costly rugs and big enough so she can draw her feet up and sit in it cross-legged and wrapped in her duvet while she looses herself in a well-worn copy of a romance liberated from some unlucky noble's mansion by Sera, who has a good eye for entertaining as well as scandalous books of interest and will liberally distribute them to the readers of Skyhold. The two chocolates, though frugally nibbled and slowly savored, are long gone, and what remains of her tea is now cold. The embers in the fireplace have burned low. Josephine yawns and stretches, wincing at the ache in her back. Time for bed.

The box is locked and well-hidden. A prize brought home after Halamshiral, after Leliana sent her to Val Royeaux, sent her to the wrong address – no doubt deliberately – with a liberal allowance and instructions to spend it on something nice for herself. The ladies at _La Mine de Trésors_ had been very good at drawing her into a conversation and drawing out of her secret desires hoarded through books, art and daydreams.

The key turns, the lock clicks, the chest opens. These then are her treasures. Josephine feels a little giddy with anticipation. Nestled in the silk inlay are toys that make her heart beat a little quicker. They were a little costly, of course, but it did not to do be stingy in these matters, she had been told. The materials differ: there is a longer phallus made from wood so hard it reflects light like glass, two slimmer ones, resembling fingers that are covered leather fine and smooth and, as she had been assured, easily cleaned and durable. There, too, is another smooth wooden toy, phallic, much smaller but with a wider base cut out of the same piece. She has owned such a thing before. Finally, her most expensive purchase: a metal plug the size and shape of an egg with a broad stem and floral-patterned base, all covered in gold. The toys are cold to the touch and Josephine deliberates a little, daydreaming, searching her desires until she settles on the smaller wooden toy and the plug to first carefully clean and then take to bed with her.

Breathing deeply, she wills herself to relax, to let go of tension as she positions the oil-slicked toy so it can press against her ass. It finds purchase against a dent in her bed and she carefully moves down on it, trapping it between herself and the mattress, testing its pressure against her. The sensation against her sphincter is thrilling and Josephine begins to touch her clit, rubbing circles distractedly, trying to ease the intense sensation that is building there. Slowly, slowly she wills herself to relax more and more until she feels the tip of the small toy slip into her. Ah! She waits a moment, breathes, lets her body adjust to the intrusion until she continues to stroke her clit while sinking down slowly further and further onto the toy. She longs to be filled completely. It feels strange and intense, but she knows to not rush this. Relax, she tells herself again and feels the tension leave her body bit by bit as she begins to concentrate on the toy stretching her more and more. She hums and moans with pleasure, savoring, writhing, grinding against the toy, touching herself. It feels wonderful.

Images of bodies come to her. Of beautiful Olivier, naked and slick with water when they had swum in the Duke's pond at midnight. Of Juliette, who bared her perfect breasts at the reception when they were all too-giddy with dance or drink. Of the Iron Bull, muscles rippling underneath the barely-there leathers he wears. Cassandra, grunting sweaty with exertion past-noon, still slashing at the training dummies. The images come unbidden but stay. Josephine hesitates, breathing heavily, feeling light with pleasure and flushed hot, scalding with sudden, shocking desire.

Josephine tries to guide her thoughts back to Olivier – to Juliette, to safe and long-gone daydreams. But Juliette's blonde hair turns dark, Olivier's brown-skinned hands melt into Cassandra's, resting on her thigh. Josephine sighs in frustration. Should she fight this now? It is inconsequential, these desires are secret, known only to her. She huffs in annoyance, the spark of her pleasure dimming with distraction.

Maybe a switch of playthings would help her reignite it? She should be ready to take the plug now, Josephine thinks. She slips out the toy slowly, knowing the loss of this delightful feeling of fullness will only be momentary.

The golden plug is beautiful, heavy in her hand. Beautiful and ridiculous. _Think how lovely you will look, wearing it, ma chérie!_ The violet-eyed vendor had exclaimed as Josephine admired it in wonder. _Gold is your color!_ The others had agreed. Josephine had blushed seeing it held against the dark skin of her arm where it matched the golden armbands she already wore. It is like jewelry of another kind.

Josephine lays down on her side, reaching behind her with the plug in hand. Pressure, pressure, sweet pressure against her hole. Still slick with oil she feels ready for it, tells her body to open to it, open, relax – ah! It glides in suddenly, its shape aiding its entrance so quickly past its widest point it is almost shocking to her. She remains still at first, studies the stretch and weight of it within her, marvels at it, delights at how perfectly it fills her. Then she begins to shift and move, chasing the feeling of it, twisting her body, moaning, humming into her pillows before she grabs one of them to shift below her, to grind against while she luxuriates in the sensation of the plug within her. Oh! Yes!

Her body is heated with pleasure. Her mind returns to its desires. Below her Cassandra shifts, presses her leg against her sex, draws her close against the heat of her body, her breasts. Josephine does not fight the images bubbling to the surface now. _You are beautiful._ Cassandra whispers in her mind, voice rough with want. _Tell me! Tell me again!_ Josephine wills her and the daydream obliges even as Josephine shudders to her pleasure's climax and release.

Afterwards she is liquidly languid, flushed and heavy-limbed. Josephine cannot remember when she has last felt so without tension, without worry, warm and sated with pleasure. She falls asleep with the plug still inside her.

In her dreams she is weightless in the water. It is summer in Antiva. The waves of the ocean carry her home.

  


 


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